“That’s the only name I could think of,” answered Paul. “Pegasus was a winged horse, you know.”
“And poets have been riding the poor critter to death ever since,” chimed in Tubby, with a snicker.
Rob decided that he would try his experimental ride from the summit of the hill. From what he had seen, it would be no very difficult task to control the winged sled. He was, in fact, so anxious to be off on his initial voyage that he could hardly wait till they reached the summit of the moonlit hill.
At last, however, everything was ready for the start.
“Whoa, Peggy!” cautioned Tubby, as with Merritt he hung on to the rear of the sled, while Paul gave Rob some final instructions.
“Balance her just like you would a bicycle,” he said, “and when you feel her rising don’t resist, but just take it easy. Look out for the landing, though. It’ll jolt the wishbone out of you.”
“I expect to get a tumble,” Rob assured him.
“Guess I’m all right,” he added the next minute, straining his eyes to make sure the hill ahead was clear.
Suddenly he was off, rushing through the frosty air at an exhilarating clip. All at once he felt a queer, rising movement, and knew that the winged sled was starting to spread its pinions. Far behind him he heard a faint cheer. Like a bicycle rider, Rob balanced a tipping tendency in either direction by swaying his body.
“Whee-e-e-e-e-e-e!” he yelled in sheer delight at the wonderful sensation as he clove the atmosphere. Above him the frosty stars twinkled. Beneath was the long, white hill, chequered vividly here and there with inky splashings of shadow.